Whispers
by umbrella-beach
Summary: When Brenna encounters a trail of wisps, she believes they'll lead her to her destiny . . . . She has no idea how dangerous they can be, luring her with quiet whispers filled with the promise of her desired fate.
1. Little Blue Things

Disclaimer: I don't own Brave.

**"It is said—though by whom is a bit of a mystery—that on certain days for certain travelers in certain parts of the world, little lights dance on the horizon, whispering tempting invitations... pledging the answers to lifelong questions, the realization of dreams, a key to secret treasures—a change of fate.**

**Charmed and curious, unsuspecting travelers follow the floating lights, mesmerized by their whispers, their promises. Yet no matter how long or how fervently they follow, they never quite touch the beautiful beacons whose flickering lights eventually fade and disappear... leaving the inquisitors, the dreamers and the treasure seekers lost... and alone."**

Prologue: Little Blue Things

"And so, Merida's bond with her mother was strengthened—and she found love in her own time. It's because of her that you have your freedom." Brenna stared at her father in wonder, tucking a loose strand of onyx hair behind her ear.

"Dad?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Tell me more about the wisps." He cleared his throat theatrically, rubbing his hands together and shifting in his seat. As he readjusted his position, the wooden chair creaked loudly, making Brenna giggle. Her father, David Gowan, was well past overweight—something he was "working on." She often reminded him that it didn't count if he ate three times his size every night at supper.

"The wisps," he said gruffly, mysteriously, "are very dangerous—but, at the same time, necessary. Our history dances around them—there's no question they're intertwined with fate, pushing us towards the places we need to go, guiding us... but, at the same time, letting us choose our own paths, and eventually, our destiny." Brenna smiled softly at her father's animated face, candlelight bouncing off his skin. _Destiny._ Did she have one? She didn't know. In her eighteen years, she'd never encountered a wisp before... but a glimmer of hope still burned inside her. She had friends that claimed they'd seen one or two—but not several in a row, lighting a path, like in her father's stories. "They're little blue things; tiny orbs of light that call to you, whisper to your soul. When you see one, you'll know," he told her. Even though she believed him, she sometimes thought she could see tiny flickers in the distance, perhaps on a warm summer evening, underneath the stars...

But she knew that was silly; they were probably only lightning bugs, fluttering through the dewy grass, glowing in the meadow.

"Wisps are dangerous, Brenna," Nora Gowan said, soft but firm, as she entered the room. "You need to stop looking for them. If it's meant to be, they'll find you." Brenna sighed softly, getting up to help her mother put the food on the table. "Alright, mum."

As they ate, she watched as her family's spoken words shook the flames of the candles, making them dance in the air and wiggle about. And then, when they paused in their discussion, the candles became still, burning brightly, sending light across the room. They didn't flicker, or move, or dance. They just shone.

She felt her heart flutter, like a candle, as hope ran through her veins once more. And, when she went to sleep that night, she dreamt of quiet whispers and little blue things guiding her to her destiny.


	2. Red and Orange

Disclaimer: I don't own Brave.

**A/N: Read and review if you like it. :)**

Chapter One: Red and Orange

In the wee hours of the morning, Brenna stirred, bolting straight up in bed. Her brows pulled together—it wasn't the time she normally woke; her eyelids were still droopy and weighed down in the humid summer air. _It must have been a noise,_ she thought, _someone getting a cup of water._ She listened intently, tilting her head to the side.

"Ah..."

A soft voice called out in the darkness, on the other side of her window. She didn't know how she could tell, but, whoever it was, they were beckoning her. The small word was softly sung, over and over again in the blackness—Brenna could no longer ignore it. Fighting her exhaustion, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, fetching her cloak and padding to the front door.

A soft breeze met her when she stepped outside, caressing her face and strands of hair, and she shivered slightly. It was almost the end of the summer—a particularly dry one—and she could feel a storm on the way.

"Aaah," the voice sang again. She looked around, in all directions, seeing nothing. She squinted at the edge of the forest, straining her eyes to try and see something.

_The wisps,_ she thought excitedly. _They're calling to me!_

She shut her eyes tightly, pinching her arm to make sure it wasn't a dream. She opened her eyes, and, finally, she saw it: a faint glow, a little blue thing—a glimmering beacon in the air, a few feet into the forest. Glancing over her shoulder, she bid her family a silent, temporary farewell as she skittered into the wood to follow her destiny.

* * *

Long tendrils of smoke crept underneath the wooden door of the Gowan home, colliding with the misty, humid air outside. Soon, the whole village lit up as the fire spread from house to house. Everything was enveloped in red and orange. The scorching heat was suffocating, stinging lungs, piercing throats. It became harder and harder to see, harder and harder to breathe. There was so much smoke. Nora and David Gowan shoved the front door open, coughing and sputtering, spitting in the dewy grass. They collapsed on the ground, gasping for fresh air. Their faces became panicked as they looked for their daughter.

"She left." It was the voice of a young man—someone Brenna's age. He'd seen him around the village… what was his family's name? Mac… Mac-something. He was one of their neighbors, just a few doors down.

"Where did she go?" David asked frantically, looking this way and that.

"Followed the wisps." Nora's head fell into her hands, half in relief, half in despair.

"I told her," she said, fear in her voice. "I said, 'Brenna, don't go lookin' for them. They'll find you.' She didn't listen."

"I'm sorry—I do not mean to be rude, miss… but she did listen to ye," the boy said quietly.

"What?" Nora lifted her head slowly, her brows furrowed.

"I said _she did listen_. She never went lookin' for 'em. They came right to her doorstep, almost. Yer lucky they didn't end up in the house." Nora's face relaxed. His words calmed her slightly, but her daughter was still out in the middle of God-knows-where, and soon, she'd be back to find them.

"Dear," Nora said, addressing her husband.

"What?"

"The village is on fire."

"I know," he said, distress in his voice. "We weren't even asleep three hours." He sighed.

They looked towards the other houses, where people were already dousing the flames. The pulley system they often used in situations like these would be handy tonight. It wasn't the first time the village had caught fire—though it hadn't happened in a long while. Certainly not in Brenna's time.

"The shelter?" Nora suggested, unable to come up with any other options. It was too dark to see anything, and they'd need the light to clean up. He nodded, getting up from the grass.

"Is it the north shelter yer goin' to?" David's eyes trained on the young man, his lanky frame glowing in the amber light.

"Yes, sir," David told him.

"Meetcha there, then," he said, turning to rejoin his family.

"Hey—c'mere, lad." The boy turned again, stopping a few feet in front of David. "What's yer name?"

"Derek. Derek Mackenzie," he said, shaking his hand.

"Well, thanks, Derek Mackenzie," David said. Derek let go of his hand, smiling kindly in the dim light.

"Tell Brenna she oughta be careful," he said, his face filled with concern. "Ye never know where those things'll take ya."

* * *

"This doesn't make any _sense_!" Brenna kicked a rock in frustration. The wisps had led her around and around in circles for at least an hour. They had her wandering aimlessly through the forest—she wasn't following her destiny, or being led to her fate—she was running in meaningless circles through the woods.

"Aah…."

Even the singsong voices of the wisps beckoning her forward were no longer soothing—they had become annoying, and it only added to her irritation.

"I give up," she muttered, picking up a battered stick leaning against a thick tree trunk. She turned away from the nearest wisp, heading forcefully in the opposite direction towards home.

She was so distracted, so fueled by her anger, that she didn't even smell the smoke until it attacked her lungs. She coughed, over and over, until she reached the edge of the woods—peeking through the trees, she watched as the entire village shone like burning embers, red and orange against the black night.


	3. The Other Side Part One

Disclaimer: I don't own Brave.

"**Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."**

**- Terry Pratchett**

Chapter Two: The Other Side

Part One

Dawn was just beginning to break as Brenna ran though the grass to meet her parents. She had never seen such relieved looks on their faces—then again, she'd never seen the village on fire. She'd never had wisps lead her through the forest, either. The morning was filled with firsts.

"You're okay, you're safe, you're here." Nora repeated the words over and over, for her own sake more than her daughter's. After Brenna pulled away from a tight embrace with David, Nora immediately hugged her tightly to her chest, taking big, deep breaths. Her lungs still burned from the smoke, tingling and itching. She'd have to remember to make tea once they got to the shelter.

"I'm here," Brenna agreed. She joined her mother in a sigh, though hers was more disappointed than relieved. Nora pulled away to look at her.

"It's fine, dear, they've almost put the fire out," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her daughter's ear.

"It's not that, mum."

"Well, what is it, then? If you're worried about your things, I'm sure—"

"It doesn't make sense," Brenna said, interrupting her. "The wisps didn't lead me anywhere. They had me runnin' around in circles!"

David tilted his head to the side, frowning slightly. "Why would they do that?" he wondered aloud.

"I don't know—I followed 'em wherever they wanted me to go… I ended up in the same clearing some ten times!" She tugged on her hair in exasperation. Whenever she became frustrated, her long, dark locks always made her too hot. She pulled a green ribbon from her pocket, tying the mane back behind her head.

"I'm sure there was a good reason," Nora said.

"We've got to go, dear—everyone's headin' to the shelter. I'm sure it'll take a few days 'til we can all be back in our own beds." Nora nodded, patting her daughter's arm once more.

* * *

Brenna sat at a table with David and Nora, sipping her tea and watching the rain.

"'S a good thing this started up," David said between gulps. "They woulda been puttin' that fire out 'til noon." Brenna smiled softly, looking out the opening of the cave. The elders had found this place, years before her parents were born. They used it whenever there was an emergency—it was a lot larger than it appeared, and they usually fit everyone in, with plenty of space.

"Yes," Nora agreed absently, a couple minutes after David spoke. She was knitting furiously, weaving threads of blues and greens together. Usually, she could do it without looking, but this time, she laced a delicate, complicated pattern. Her brows were furrowed, her face a mask of concentration. It made David smile.

"What did the house look like when we left it?" Brenna asked. She hadn't remembered—she didn't even look at it when she reunited with her parents. She didn't want to see the flames licking at the wooden slats—it was too much. There was just something about seeing your home on fire, she supposed, that made you sick to your stomach.

"Charred," David said, taking another colossal swig, "but not destroyed. They started puttin' it out before you got there." She looked down into her teacup, watching the mint leaves float around. She was trying to figure out why the wisps led her to… well, to nowhere. Was it some sort of misunderstanding? Maybe they were trying to lead her to the clearing—but she hadn't _seen_ anything important. Could it be that she was missing something? _I should go back,_ she thought. Suddenly, a gruff voice, one of the leaders of the clan, spoke.

"Gowans, McKinnons, Hamiltons—we're gonna need yer help. Rain's lettin' up. We should run back—try n' pick up some of the pieces. Maybe we'll be able to save some of our things." There was a symphony of sighs, and then some murmurs of "okay, let's go." David tipped his cup back all the way as he downed the last gulp, and then Nora set her brand new doily on the wooden table. Brenna got up quickly, looking for a distraction. If she kept letting the wisps get to her, it'd make her head explode.

"I'll come with ya."

A velvety voice sounded behind Brenna, and she warmed immediately. Derek Mackenzie. He'd never spoken a word to her, but she wished he would. She turned around, looking everywhere in the low-ceilinged cave except at his face.

"Okay," she said. _Okay? Just okay?_ She looked at him then, at his broad shoulders, his plain tan cloak. His dark hair, falling a bit shy of his freckled cheeks and just into his eyes—his extremely _blue_ eyes. Derek Mackenzie. He'd lived right by her for years, much to her appreciation. She smiled at him, a quiet, hopeful smile.

"Okay," he repeated, smiling back. She turned around to leave the cave, and just about died when he placed his warm hand gently on her back. It sizzled through to her skin, sending goosebumps across her flesh. An electric hum filled her head, making her feel giddy—almost… drunk. She caught herself on a giggle.

After they exited the opening, his hand fell to his side, and she felt cold.

"Wow," Nora said as the group neared the village, "it's still smokin' a bit." Little tendrils of white clouds floated up above the trees. When they reached the edge of the forest, Brenna breathed in and resisted the urge to cough. She could still smell the charred wood, the overpowering smell of doused flames tickling at her throat. They pushed past the wet leaves and stepped into the boundary of the village, letting their eyes wander across the blackened houses.

"That's… weird," Brenna said, looking at the Gowan house.

"What's weird?" David asked. Everyone stared at the house, and then looked back at her, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

"The house," she said, "it's not… it didn't..." She squinted her eyes, tilting her head to the side. "It's not charred. The flames didn't reach the front of the house." David's brows furrowed, and Brenna approached the side alley.

"Be careful, Brenna," Derek said, his face lined with concern. "There might still be somethin' burning."

"If you're so worried," Brenna said daringly, "come with me." He didn't need any more persuasion. He caught up to her quickly, looking tentatively at the side of the house. When she reached the back, she gasped.

"What? What is it?" Derek rushed to her side, looking around for flames.

"My—my room. That's my room." She pointed in horror at the back of the house, at the collapsed walls, curled in on themselves. Beams had fallen across her bed, lying atop the very place she'd been sleeping an hour before the fire started.

All at once, it hit her. If she'd been in her room… the beam could have fallen on her. What if she'd never heard anything? What if she'd slept through it? She would be dead.

"The wisps," she said, tears in her eyes as she looked up at Derek. "They didn't lead me around in circles for nothin'." Derek looked at her quizzically.

"I don't understand," he said. A tear rolled down her cheek as she looked at her irreparable room in awe. Her voice was thick when she finally spoke.

"They led me to safety."


End file.
